His Other Little Sister
by Illusionary Ennui
Summary: Mini-Sequel to Crimson Favour... The almighty Malcolm Hawke trained his young son as a warrior for one true purpose: the protection of his daughters. 'Tis a pity he didn't see it as such. However, the sentiment has changed, revealed in a drunken haze...


**His Other Little Sister**

Mini-Sequel to Crimson Favour... The almighty Malcolm Hawke trained his young son as a warrior for one true purpose: the protection of his daughters. 'Tis a pity he didn't see it as such. However, the sentiment has changed, revealed in a drunken haze... Sebastian x F!Hawke (One-Shot)

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><p><em>This fan fiction might contain spoilers, canon and also non-canon endeavours and history. After his rescue during the <strong>Best Served Cold <strong>quest, the Grey Warden Carver calls his older sister "little" during a fireside and it baffles her best friend and her lover._

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><p>Author: Illusionary Ennui<p>

Disclaimer: If it's not in the Dragon Age games, codex entries, or the wiki, it's mine. All else, hail to Bioware.

Chapter Word Count: 2,653 (so far)

Chapter Rating: T

Chapter Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, and Romance

Beta: Lywinis

Edited: 12.09.2011

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><p><strong>His Other Little Sister<strong>

_Duty. Desire._  
><em>Opposites in need and want<em>  
><em>The truth is greater<em>

The third waterskin, once brimming with a lesser grade of Antivan wine, flopped onto the sandy soil. Empty. Taking up a fourth, Fenris beamed at the Grey Warden and exiled prince, both inching towards the precarious edge of control. Above them winked bright stars, the clear night unable to chill their wine-warmed bodies. Letting out a deep breath, he nudged the blade of his Sword of Mercy with his edge of his foot before passed the skin to the nearest of the two, his mind taken to wandering.

Carver Hawke, Maria's younger brother and only tie to her old life, held his own with the elven warrior. Drowning himself with a long pull, Carver proved his worth as he welcomed the warmth of a growing drunken stupor. All the while, his happy smile wore away each time he stole a glance at his sister's lover. The lyrium-branded elf guessed that the younger man could not understand his sibling's infatuation with the formerly chaste brother of the Chantry.

Sebastian Vael, Fenris noticed, kept his endeavours light, a polite sip at every turn. Still, the elf expected the rogue's head to be reeling with inevitable inebriation. Judging by the glazing look of those brilliant blue eyes, the lack of alcohol in his recent past may prove to be more detrimental than he may have realized. True to the warrior's expectations, life in the Chantry left him with a weaker stomach after all, the wine already warming him faster than his companions. Each pass of the skin brought him closer to the point of no return.

"Tell me something, Carver," Fenris said, wiping his mouth on the back of his gauntlet. Handing the skin to the human warrior, he sought an answer to a troubling query. "Why do you call your elder sister _little_? I cannot fathom the reasoning - is she not your elder?"

The Warden squirmed under the scrutiny of both Fenris and Sebastian, who added his own voice to the enquiry. Watching the younger Hawke lick his lips in the thought, Fenris then eyed the prince with a wary expression. Though he respected the remaining Vael, the Tevinter warrior held reservations in retrospect of his possession of the champion. On other hand, although he anticipated that Carver shared his sentiments, the strained relationship between the warrior and his sister was a cause for concern. Nevertheless, with Carver beholden to the Grey Warden, only Fenris remained to defend her - he owned Maria that much at the very least after all she had done for him. She deserved no less for that kindness and with that in mind, Fenris expected to put the royal archer in his place. However, he thought with a sigh, that would have to wait for another time as he returned his glare to the younger man.

"Slip of the tongue," Carver said with a nonchalant shrug.

"Hardly true, my friend," the prince argued, the corner of his mouth twitching at the half-lie.

"You're one to talk," he spat back as he took another deep draught from the wineskin. "For years you strung her along; I've half a mind to–"

"Carver, just answer the question." Fenris sighed at the childish behaviour, the impetuousness of the younger Hawke that questioned his relation to such a demure sister. The difference between them rankled him. "I can hear the contempt poisoning those words."

"All right, fine," the Warden assented with a huff. "And it's not contempt, so don't give me that look. It's nothing, really."

Both Fenris and Sebastian groaned at the warrior's insolence. Only curiosity stayed their tongues. With the little mage fast asleep, Carver's tale may well shed some light on the life she had lost during the Blight, the past of which she never spoke. Fenris caught a glimpse of genuine concern in the rogue's eyes, desperate to know more of his beloved Hawke.

"I love my sister. It just that when we were kids, I could never understand why she had to be my _big_ sister."

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><p>For as long as he could remember, Carver despised his sister's long shadows, the unwanted attention, the unseen halo of radiance encompassing her like a beacon of hope in the darkness. Time and time again, their family faced hardship, crushing trials, and overwhelming tribulations. Still, Maria shined that light, protecting them when he would not.<p>

Still, he never understood why he called her his "big" sister, not when she was smaller, weaker. Why should he, when she bested him only by magic and not strength? Why name her his superior when he reached the top shelves for her sake? All through their childhood, Carver built himself up as the greater, relishing in their rivalry to prove himself the better of his siblings. Nonetheless, it never seemed enough.

In his youth, their father - the enigmatic Malcolm Hawke, a mage of remarkable and unimaginable prowess - left him battered and bruised while he hardened him for the role he would fight against for many years. Trained as a warrior, Malcolm intended him as a shield, a sword of defence for the protection of his siblings, unfortunate victims of the cursed blood, as Carver liked to call it. Every day, the young man thanked the Maker for escaping that fate, only to despair for the adamant duty pressed upon him. With that weight upon his shoulder, the templars would hunt him just the same as his sisters.

His disdain towards her grew after that one time she truly needed him not long after their father's death. The unjust disdain roiled for years, driving him into Cailan's service for the chance to break free of her sphere. Even then, the Blight cast him into chaos, forcing them into flight once more. Yet, for the price of freedom, the death of their sister caused them to broker peace, only to have it shatter yet again.

Not long afterwards, their expedition into the Deep Roads diverged their paths forever.

Tainted by the Blight, the damning poison wrought by darkspawn, Maria chose to risk his life over an unforgivable death by offering him to the Grey Wardens. At first, Carver hated her - why had she thrown him away like a blood-stained shirt? Why had she so willingly abandoned him to an uncertain fate? The bitterness consumed him and he believed that it was the disgust for his flesh and blood that saw him through the ritual.

Now, however, his attitude rang with a different tone. Welcomed into the ranks of the Wardens after accepting his new path, the youngest Hawke found a place of belonging, a new family to replace the one taken from him. There, he bathed in praise, rising amid the ashes of the broken existence he left behind. How could he hate her now that her love for him wrought such happiness? Thanks to the selfish desire for his life, she gave him the escape from her shadow he craved with such yearning - he was his own man.

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><p>"– and though I may never tell it to her face," Carver muttered, the near-empty wineskin dangling from his big hand, "I can never thank her enough."<p>

"You're right to show your respect, if even only in our company," the exiled prince agreed when took the offered skin from the man. In his own mind, Sebastian sensed his admiration for his lover's brother grow with his confession.

"Still, I find it unexpected," Fenris chimed with a throaty chuckle.

"Laugh it up, elf. And don't judge me, Your Highness, because as long as you fancy my sister, I'll be watching you. Don't think I won't hold back on her account."

"It's _will_, Carver, not _will not_," Sebastian corrected him as he accepted the skin from Fenris's outstretched claw.

"'S'cuse me?"

His blackened brow rose at the sound of the prince's off-handed comment, his confusion and irritation evident.

"If I'm not mistaken, I'm certain you meant that you would _not_ hold back on her account," the rogue said with an amiable air. "_Don't think I will hold back on her account_ would be proper rather than the double negative."

"Are you saying I can't talk right?"

"Not at all," he assured the younger Hawke, offering him the last of the wine in apology. Sebastian chanced a glance at the former slave, both of them dissolving into laughter and drawing a bewildered look from the Warden. Nevertheless, the matter vanished, left to the haze. Together, the three men joined in hearty laughter as another wineskin appeared from the depths of Fenris's pack.

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><p>As the sixth wineskin made its round, Carver gave himself over to a drunken state. Rambling words tumbled from his lips, odd comments and secrets. From him, Fenris and Sebastian learned of Maria's fear of heights, the Warden Commander's favourite food, and other wild things such as his father's one and only pair of boots - oh Maker, did Malcolm love those boots.<p>

"You-you wanna know sumthin'?" the Warden stammered, sliding to the ground from his seat. With a jovial air, his let his legs sprawl out before him. "I still like to call her my _little sister_."

"Why in Thedas would you do that?" Sebastian questioned, slightly tipsy despite his sparing consumption. Throwing his head back, the royal archer stared up into the cloudless sky, admiring the luminous patterns of the silver lights holding their own outside the moon's brilliant glow.

"It's because she's so short," Carver protested as he threw up a hand in mock dispute.

Smirking, Fenris's countenance belied a devious thought. Aloud, he recalled that the champion sported wide hips and a generous allotment of other curves - a delight for any man. Carver wrinkled his nose in distaste, unwilling to see his sister in that sort of light from anyone other than her lover. Through glazed eyes, the Warden caught Sebastian's jealous and possessive glare as it locked on the misspoken elf. Grinning, a shaky finger pointed at the champion's lover, the smile only growing more mischievous.

"S-s-s-o-o, you an-an' my s-s-sister..." he slurred, emptying the wineskin in his hand.

"I don't, I don't really see how I am in any way, um... obligated to answer that," Sebastian tried to argue while he fought against the floating sensation filling him. Albeit not as drunk as Carver, he still possessed some mastery of his tongue. However, the rogue noticed his focus beginning to fail, swift to wane in the wake of cheap wine.

"Isabela had some interesting things to say on the matter," Fenris mumbled, a pleased look spreading across his features as the lyrium brands on his chin shifting with his smirk.

"R-real-ly?"

Sebastian's ears burned pink as the heat of embarrassment rose to his cheeks upon hearing Fenris recount the Rivaini pirate's over-exaggerated tales of their couplings. With a smug voice,the elf hid the conniving sarcasm well. He ground he teeth at every word, his eye twitching with unwanted antagonism.

"For the love of the Maker!" Sebastian cried, rising to his feet quicker than his body could handle. He wobbled on his his long legs as the ground seemed to pitch and yawn beneath his unsteady stance. Strengthened by his resoluteness against their prying and his loyalty to his lover, he left the fools to the imprudent gossip more fitting if between bored noblewomen.

Ambling just beyond the ring of firelight, Sebastian shuffled to the slumbering mage's side. He stumbled for a brief moment, tripping over her feet in his tactless condition. Maria did not wake at the misstep at first nor did she react to the thump of his bedroll spread beside hers. In habit, he wrapped his arm around her waist to bring her back flush to his chest and drew a blanket over the pair of them, relishing in her softness. Dark eyes fluttered open and a pleased sound slipped past dry lips before she turned in his embrace. Pillowing her head in the cradle of his shoulder and her hands curling upon his chest, Maria snuggled closer and drifted back to sleep, comforted by his presence. His own sleep eluded him while he stroked her arm with a lazy hand. Pressing a soft kiss to her wrinkled brow, he settled back into silence, listening to the crackle of the fire and the crashing waves.

Rest only came to him in the predawn hours, the respite short-lived when sunrise broke the horizon along the Wounded Coast.

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><p>His head ached like a split melon, his temples throbbing with the repercussions of last night's antics. Sunlight blinded him as he threw his arm over his eyes against the glare. A gentle squeeze on his fingers did little to alleviate the physical pain, Maria's worried gaze staring up at him. Sebastian summoned up a small smile for her, noting her smaller stature with an absent-minded observation - Carver had been right after all.<p>

"What are you smiling at?"

"Nothing," he muttered before capturing her hand to kiss the knuckles in a brief apology.

Falling back into step, the group began to part ways upon their arrival to the city's edge. Carver, his own head a pounding cacophony, drew his sister in an uncharacteristic hug to kiss her cheek and then left in silence. Once in Hightown, Fenris took his leave with Isabela trailing behind, who turned only once to give Sebastian and Maria an impish wink. Alone, they traversed the square and disappeared into the Amell estate, their progress slow as they made their way to her chambers.

Cradling his head in his hands, Sebastian sat on the edge of the great bed. The incessant throbbing drummed a wicked tattoo within him, making him pay for his folly. He crawled onto the coverlet and sank among the sea of pillows to wallow in his misfortune. Regardless of his deserved misery, his lover pitied him and joined him, straddling his waist. Leaning up and over him, Maria pressed her fingers to his temple and the tinge of icy healing magic radiated from the tips to address the coalescing pain. The hurt retreated from her tender ministrations to leave him numb but clear-minded, her magic a convenient balm for stupidity.

Roaming hands trailed up her thighs where they caressed the obscured flesh in appreciation for her efforts. A hand crept up her bowed spine to brace her neck while the other slipped under the hem on her robes. Sebastian slanted his mouth over her parting lips, his tongue delving to dance with hers. His hips rose to meet those bearing down him, grinding his pleasure against his lover. Yet, despite the mounting fervour, the mage above him withdrew and his grip loosened. Her touch lingered on his cheeks before stroking down his shoulders in aimless fashion. She paused once to kiss his furrowed brow and tease him with a leisurely roll of her hips, feeling him twitch through the thick trews. To his discontentment, Maria then collapsed, breathless, to his side before passion overtook them. Both exhausted from their travels and endeavours, now was not the time for those kinds of exertions, no matter how desired. Accepting his healer's unspoken wishes with some reluctance, he abandoned the course - it was for the best, he settled in agreement. For the moment, he enfolded her in his arms, his long fingers tangling in her hair.

Secure in one another's gentle embrace, they fell into compulsory slumber only to woken a few hours later.

Bodahn, his imperative knocking dragging the lovers from their dreams, stood outside their chamber, his panting heavy as he doubled-over to catch his breath.

"An urgent letter, messere," he coughed, presenting the thick enveloped with First Enchanter's seal.

Two pairs of eyes, one dark brown and the other brilliant blue, were quick to scan the message's contents, Sebastian's heart sank with due trepidation - Meredith had gone too far.

**_Fin._**

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Okay, I admit it: I can be a bit of an idiot. In this one-shot's prequel, I accidently wrote dialogue in which Carver refers to his elder sister as his "little sister". Somehow or another, I felt I should remedy that, only to have it turn into a complete story. Oh well... enjoy the product of that randomness, a drabble fic to fill the space between the last one-shot and the next.

Again, allow me to thank Lywinis and the ladies of the SSG, but also all of you, my readers.

So, for now, look out for the final installment of my trilogy - this fic is merely filler until I get the chance to write it.


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